


Underdog

by badass_normal



Category: Lost
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-08
Updated: 2010-07-08
Packaged: 2017-10-11 01:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/106730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badass_normal/pseuds/badass_normal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anyone else would think Lennon a very unlikely candidate. Dogen knows better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Underdog

**Author's Note:**

  * For [that_evening](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=that_evening).



_(He traces a single finger over Lennon's thin chest, following it absently with his eyes as he listens to him breathe. His skin is warm and flushed with afterglow and Dogen leans in, gently kisses under his earlobe. Threads a hand through Lennon's hair and remembers when it wasn't a longish, scraggly mess.)_

Richard brought three men, survivors of Oceanic 815. Names that had appeared on Jacob's list. Names that represented good people. Or so Dogen was told. He never left the Temple, so he cared little about plane crashes and castaways and their likely nightmarish entanglements with Ben.

Dogen saw the tall, quiet man in the back, with the glasses, and knew immediately that he was the one.

"Wha—what language is he speaking?" Lennon stammered to Richard, taking off his glasses. He had nice eyes.

Of course Richard laughed. "You're going to learn Japanese, my friend." He shoved a bound set of papers into Dogen's waiting hands. "You sure you want _this_ guy? You might want to check out his file first."

Dogen accepted the file, noted that it was rather slim for an account of an entire lifetime. "This is it?" he asked Richard in English.

"Like I said, you might want to read his file before you take him on as your number two. He's not exactly the most exciting survivor who crashed on that plane."

"Hey now—" Lennon tried to interrupt.

"I hear you never take the exciting ones," Dogen replied, and had to refrain from grimacing at the ugliness of the English language.

"Well that's not my decision." Richard looked one more time at Lennon, who had a pathetic sulk drawn into his expression.

"I want him," Dogen said simply and thrust the file back to Richard. "Take the others back, let them live in houses."

"Uhm, do I get a say in any of this?" Lennon protested weakly. "A house doesn't sound so bad after two weeks on the beach—"

"I think this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship," Richard said with a hint of sarcasm, clapping the lanky man on the back in encouragement.

_(With a soft sigh, Dogen climbs over Lennon's naked body, and Lennon's eyes flicker open, sparkle. Dogen traces the his uniquely-shaped cheekbone with his thumb before leaning in and brushing his lips ever so softly with his own. He does not tell Lennon that he is the best thing that has happened to him since he came to the Island.)_

Two days later, Lennon had finally come to understand what "shizuka niishte kudasai" meant and that was about it. Dogen had not spoken a word of English to him, and he strongly suspected that Lennon was crying himself to sleep at night.

Lennon had pretty quickly taken to running his mouth at Dogen, who listened, fascinated in spite of his usual apathy toward anything involving other human beings.

"...Like trying to have a conversation with that giant African dude. Never spoke a word the entire time I was down there. And you're just being a mean, spiteful _brat_ because you freaking _speak_ English and for some reason you just _won't_. Can I ask you something? What did I do to deserve this? Why _me_? I could be living in a proper house, with running water, with people who don't refuse to speak a language I understand. But instead I'm up here in the middle of the jungle with no running water, no toilet, no—"

"Shizuka niishte, kudasai," Dogen finally said. Lennon stopped instantly. Dogen rubbed at his eyes. "I am not speaking English, because you will learn faster. It is called language immersion."

Lennon almost fell off of the log he was sitting on at Dogen's words, that they were in English. "Well if you'd just told me that from the beginning," he grumbled.

Dogen rested a hand on Lennon's shoulder. "Eigo o hanashimasen. Wakarimaska?"

"Can you please say it in English?" Lennon pleaded. "Please? Just once?"

"Eigo. O. Hanashimasen."

Something finally flickered across Lennon's face. Comprehension. Thank goodness. "You won't speak English?" he asked very, very slowly, like a small child.

"Hai," Dogen nodded. Smiled. "Hai."

_(Dogen buries his hands in Lennon's hair and sweeps his tongue into the other man's mouth, and Lennon accepts him as he always does, reciprocates with quiet enthusiasm. Their lips meet and break apart and meet again in an intoxicating rhythm, their tongues invading each others' mouths with every careful kiss.)_

By the time the rest of their people had migrated to the Temple, Lennon was hesitantly returning some of Dogen's questions in Japanese. He was a slow learner. He knew it, Dogen knew it. And without reading his file, Dogen knew that in his other life, before he came here, he would have given up long ago. But here, in this place, just the two of them, Lennon was beginning to change.

Some of the men and women Lennon crashed with were among those who came to the Temple. Oddly enough, the only one he took to was the woman who looked after the two children. Dogen watched them, at night, their faces lit by campfire, skin orange and expressions blurry. Dogen watched them, and one time the woman kissed him. It lasted all of four seconds before Lennon pulled away and looked straight ahead, or in the other direction, or anywhere but at her.

Dogen's hands trembled. This was not how things were supposed to be.

_(They come up for air and Dogen places his finger on Lennon's upper lip. Lennon takes the finger in his mouth and runs his tongue down the length of it, and Dogen inaudibly growls approval.)_

That same night, a hand on Dogen's cheek woke him up. He could see only his surprised reflection in Lennon's glasses.

"Hoshii," Lennon whispered, pressing their foreheads together, their noses touching. He did not kiss him.

"You have changed," Dogen breathed in English, and for the first time, it tasted pleasant.


End file.
